


The Dulcet Sounds of Change

by androgenius



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Coming of Age, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crushes, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: Muriel knows all of the darkest nooks and crannies large enough to hold him across the city by the time he experiences the first masquerade.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Asra/Muriel (The Arcana)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	The Dulcet Sounds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for the [Vesuvian Nights Zine](https://vesuvian-nights-zine.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much to the mod team for making it a wonderful experience all around!
> 
> Extra stock sales should be opening this month, so if you're interested in your own copy of the zine (and it is GORGEOUS, I got my contributor copy in the mail just a little bit ago!!), definitely keep an eye out for that!!

Muriel knows all of the darkest nooks and crannies large enough to hold him across the city by the time he experiences the first masquerade.

It's hard to find them, admittedly, and he's almost proud to have found them at all. They have to conceal him and his cumbersome body-- hulking and uncomfortable as it is-- in the shadows, which is, after all, no small task. But he's also lived here long enough to know what happens if he doesn't hide from the hustle and bustle of the city, and old enough to know that he doesn't want to have to endure it, not again.

Everyone is allowed to attend the masquerade in theory, but most of the children don't, and, as always, that means that there are _people_ everywhere, and that no place is truly safe, not really.

Still, he returns the next year, and the year after that. Lucio is a pest, but at least the music is nice.

And then... he meets Asra.

Asra is like a force of nature that cannot be stopped, controlled, or harnessed-- not yet. Instead, he flits through the streets of Vesuvia like the very foil to Muriel's lumbering, hulking, boulder-like form.

Muriel wishes he were small, like Asra. Not so that he could be fast, but to make it easier to hide in small, dark places.

Still, he makes do, and somewhere along the line Asra decides that he's worth befriending.

He doesn't understand it, but doesn't question it, either. Not when Asra's cave is safe and large enough to fit him, not as open as the docks or as crowded as the city streets.

Between the two of them, it's normal for Asra to take charge, and Muriel prefers it that way. It's comforting to have someone else making decisions for once, especially someone so exceptionally skilled at not being seen.

Muriel envies him and his ability to duck in and out of view at a moment's notice, but he supposes that being Asra-adjacent is almost as good, especially when Asra is there to protect him, in a way.

Not physically, no-- not that Muriel ever did like having to defend himself in the first place-- but Asra is good with _words_. Good at distracting people that Muriel doesn't want seeing him, too.

Asra does more for Muriel in his first year in Vesuvia than he could ever have asked for. Than he ever would have even _thought_ to.

How does one repay a lifetime's worth of kindness?

&

The night of the masquerade is always hot, and tonight is no exception. If anything, tonight is far worse, the heat sweltering enough for it to be visible during the daytime, squiggly lines seeming to decorate Muriel's vision whenever he tries to look far enough. And while the evening dusk seems to have brought alongside it some measure of relief, he's still sweating all the same. Maybe it's the proximity. Has his hiding place always been so cramped and narrow, or has he simply gotten bigger since the last time he was here? Granted, he was by himself then, but-- still.

He wonders if Asra can tell how nervous he is, and tries to quell his nerves anew.

He considers apologizing-- for the limited amount of room, for the sweating, for taking up so very much space, but-- before he can so much as think to utter the words, Asra smiles.

"This is nice," he says, and hopefully means it. His eyes and his smile don't seem to be lying, but all the same, Muriel can never be too sure.

"I like the music," he explains, as if an explanation is even necessary. As if one ought to be.

Asra doesn't seem to take it that way, at least. Instead, his whole face lights up, and Muriel decides that that's more than enough

&

"Next year," Asra had promised him that night, "I'll share my favorite kind of masquerade with you."

It's next year, now. The masquerade is already in full swing across town in the heart district. Even from their docks can they see the palace lit up with color and vibrancy, the intensity of it practically serving to advertise the event to the whole city.

Joy and music and merriment-- Muriel wonders what they would be like, just once. It's not for him to experience, though, he knows at least that much, and he's more than happy to content himself to the dregs he's afforded from here: The visuals from this distance, the soft, lilting sounds he can make out from his secret spot that probably wouldn't be too secret any other day of the year…

Asra whips past him like a whirlwind-- nothing unusual there, but he's familiar enough with it by now that he no longer flinches, which is nice-- and spins to face him as he holds his hand out.

"I promised you my kind of masquerade," he declares proudly and with just enough mischief and excitement dancing in his eyes that Muriel wonders if he ought to be worried.

Still, he takes Asra's hand and hopes for the best.

&

Asra is… gutsy.

This is an understatement, as Muriel more or less learned the day he met him. On most days, he is enormously grateful for this.

Today…

Well, today he's following Asra through the thick underbrush surrounding the enormous palace walls with the sole purpose of… sneaking into the palace.

It's nothing against Asra-- Asra knows as much simply based on the merit of knowing _him_ , he thinks-- but Muriel just isn't nearly as brave as he may appear at first glance.

As brave as people generally assume him to be.

The brambles, thorns, and occasional branches in his face he can handle. It's the fear around getting _caught_ that makes him weak in the knees.

"Why didn't we just go through the front?"

"Because this is more fun," Asra tells him.

He can't say he's convinced.

"Besides," he continues on, undaunted by either Muriel's silence or the dense foliage before them, "do you really think they'd have let us in?"

No. Muriel can't say that he does.

After all, they are the city's undesirables. The filth the sea washed up onto the shores of Vesuvia, leaving them to rot under the docks. Hardly the sort of people a man like Count Lucio would want at his party.

Besides. He's almost certain that neither he nor Asra would particularly enjoy what would likely follow. Not considering how their last interaction with Count Lucio went.

But while he absolutely agrees that this is safer in some ways, it is drastically less so in a lot of ways. There's something undeniably… _questionable_ about someone choosing to sneak into the palace instead of taking the front door, _especially_ when it is purported to be open to all.

He doesn't even realize that they've arrived until Asra says as much, the thicket is so dense here.

"There's a door here," he explains. "It's locked from the inside, but I've dug out enough space that I can slip under."

Asra doesn't need to explain why this hole exists. Muriel can put the pieces together from the things he's been told about Asra's parents and their work here. It's a somber thought, quieted only by the fact that, when Asra opens the gate, they're finally through.

The effect of it is almost immediate, his senses seeming to come alive as he hears the music-- still dulled by distance, but no less lovely-- reach him as it was, perhaps, intended. He likes his alcove and the softened chords it has to offer, but this is… nice. Even the gardens around them come with their own unique sort of appeal, no matter how garish they may be in terms of color and… everything else, but he's never been an authority on much of anything, let alone landscaping.

Besides. They smell nice.

He feels Asra take his hand, the same glint shining in his eyes from before-- he wonders if he should be worried-- and lead him to a tree.

"No one's going to bother us here," he says, and Muriel believes him.

&

The next year, Asra sits on his shoulders and wraps a large blanket around them like a cape until they look like a _very_ disproportionate person. Asra fastens a mask to his face and hopes that no one questions the size of his head in proportion to his… "body."

That time, they sneak through the front door, and no one stops them. Not even when they end up finding the entrance to what turns out to be a library, Asra using all the magic he can muster to unlock it and seal it once more behind them.

The year after that, they tuck themselves into the alcove again and find that they've become too big.

At least, Muriel has. Asra hasn't, but he's a good enough friend not to mention that he's not the problem here. Instead, they laugh about it-- well, Asra laughs while Muriel offers a smile-- and decides to listen to the music while letting their legs dangle from the end of the dock with no one around to bother them.

They try to sneak in through the back again the following year-- for old times' sake-- and find that Asra no longer fits through the space beneath the gate. They still get through, because magic is a delightful thing, but also very much get caught that time around.

They run, get away, and Asra promises that they'll stick to the front door from then on.

The next time-- their last for quite a while, as it turns out-- Asra convinces him to go into the masquerade properly. With Asra's magic growing seemingly by the day-- and Muriel there to lend a hand-- the cloaking spells to help disguise them end up seeming downright easy. They still don masks, but it's more for the sake of tradition than to keep their identities hidden.

Not only do they end up going in through the front door, they even make it onto the dancefloor after some gentle coaxing from Asra.

The dancing is nice, even if Muriel insists that it would have been just as nice if enjoyed outside of the palace, where there are a great deal fewer people.

After that, Asra finds a new person to attend the masquerade with, and Muriel doesn't like it, but he doesn't object, either.

&

There are no more masquerades after that, not for a long time. Not for him, anyway

When things are at their worst in the arena, Muriel thinks of dancing with Asra and how much rather he would be in a crowded room where no one cares about who he is. Then again, even without the cloaking spells protecting them, he still thinks he'd prefer that to this.

After all, there's anonymity in a crowd.

Not here. Here, he's the center of attention, made out to be a thing of legend. An unbeatable goliath. There's no passion in his blows, in the bloodshed that ensues, but they still manage to make him out to be a monster.

The scourge of the arena.

He hopes the plague might take him, but it's not to be. He couldn't possibly be that lucky.

He can still hear the music from down below the arena, but it's not the same.

The first day on which he is offered a taste of freedom, his feet touching soil not marked with the blood of hundreds, he feels little more than simply numb. There's relief there, but he's too tired to really appreciate it properly.

It takes weeks for the freedom to properly sink into his bones, but by that point, Asra and he have both moved on from that life at the docks and the masquerade no longer holds the same magical appeal it once might have. He can still hear the music from his hut in the woods, and it's nice, but it doesn't change anything, either.

Until, that is, Count Lucio dies.

That masquerade is almost a fond memory if only for that event, even in spite of everything else.

There are no more masquerades after that, not with the countess in a deep slumber according to Asra, who is around less and less now.

At least, not for another three years.

&

This masquerade _is_ different. It's as chaotic as all the last, and, even though there are a lot more people than he cares to be around-- including some that he actively _dislikes_ being around-- it's still nice.

It's no surprise, considering that Asra is there and that they manage to take down the count for a second time.

But it still is different. After all, Muriel can feel the music in his bones once more, and, when he dances with Asra's apprentice-- a former foe first turned friend and then _more_ , somehow-- it feels… right.


End file.
